


Communion

by madelinestarr



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, D/s elements, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Voice Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11754180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinestarr/pseuds/madelinestarr
Summary: noun1.the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially when the exchange is on a mental or spiritual level.Samothes needs a moment of mental fortitude. Samot is lonely without his husband. They were happy for so, so long.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imperialhare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperialhare/gifts).



> 1) one time austin confirmed that samot was daddy and then i accidentally thought about closet blowjobs for six hours. thanks. Moral of the story: it’s austin’s fault. i wrote half of this in math class.  
> 2) an early as hell birthday present for Linda @imperialhare, the patron saint of samsam  
> 3) big thanks to @fangirl_squee, who helped w/ the mental road block of writing _my first smut ever_

“High Sun Day is a holy day. It is a day to give thanks to Samothes, the God King, who gave us the sun: to light our way, and tools to build. We give thanks for how he brings the sun into the sky every morning, and how he helps us light the fires that keep our hearths warm to cook the meats that he has divinely given us the tools to kill and skin and make taste good, that make us strong. We thank him for every day on this great continent, Hieron. We meet in the streets, with bright shorts and colorful sun hats. We bake pies with tropical fruits, and we sing His songs, and we spend the day near the Church and watch the Fireworks at night. We are so glad for our Lord, that he has given us this day of rest before the harvest. Amen.”

This sermon happens down below. The followers are in the pews, and they say Amen in unison, a moment of solemness before the festivities begin. But Samothes? 

Well. 

Well, Samothes is busy.

 

The idea of having rooms that moved around inside a mountain was originally to have one hallway that could have every room connected to it, like every-changing wings affixed to a central ever-present body. But as he was being roughly moved into a spare linen closet by Samot, Samothes sent up a silent prayer to himself. Rewriting history is always fun, but it’s nice when you’re just naturally a forward thinker. 

The small room began to move deep into the mountain, the floor grating and vibrating under their feet, and Samot laughed, loud. 

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he said. Samothes looked confused, prompting Samot to continue, “You’re thinking about your inventions - the moving rooms. Does that brain ever shut down? Is it ever quiet? When are you ever just Samothes, the man, and not the Artificer Divine? Will you not even take the day off for your own sacred day?”

Samothes ignored the deeper philosophical questions, smiling down at Samot bemusedly. “We’re in a linen closet.”

Samot tilted his head to one side, as if he was only just realising it himself. As if he hadn’t grabbed Samothes on his way to dinner and pulled him inside the linen closet in the first place.

“Huh. Yes. That’s weird.” 

And then Samot smiled, and kissed Samothes. Samothes could feel the curve of Samot’s smile against his lips. Samot backed him against the door, making sure to pay Samothes mouth close attention. His tongue brushed over Samothes’s lips in a way that made Samothes gasp, first at that motion, and then again as his back hit the door.

“Yes,” said Samot, keeping his mouth close to Samothes’s so that their lips brushed as he spoke, “It seems that we’re in a very small, private closet, just you and me and some pure white towels. On a day where we’re both very busy, and I’m very very bored.”

Samot’s hands were braced on either side of Samothes against the door, just barely touching Samothes. He could feel the warmth of Samot’s hands just as he could feel the heat of the volcano under their feet, a banked but dangerous heat.

“Samot,” said Samothes, resting his hands lightly on Samot’s waist, “we’re in a closet in my volcano. What are we even doing here-!”

Samot kissed him again. Long and slow again, to keep Samothes from trying to argue any more. He slid a hand from its position on the door, up Samothes’s chest to tangle in his hair. With his other hand still braced on the door he pushed himself up, pressing the lines of their bodies together, pinning Samothes between his body and the door. Samothes made a soft noise in Samot’s mouth, an encouraging noise. 

Of course they were in a closet. It was all a part of the plan. 

When Samot finally pulled away Samothes was breathing heavily, his cheeks tinged pink. His curly hair sticking up in the front and the back, from where Samot had run his hands through it. Delightful. Truly an image worth praising, and daily.

“Here is what is going to happen,” said Samot, beginning to unbutton Samothes’s shirt, “You’re going to stand here, turn your brain off, and let me praise you.”

“You can’t be-.”

“And you’re going to be silent the whole time. I know you created arguing but I think you can give it a rest for your feast day.”

“Samot-.”

“Or,” and here Samot removed his hands from where he had been removing Samothes’ shirt, laying them palms-down either side of Samothes on the door again. “We go back into that boring dinner, and we sit across from one another, and I get very interested into the kabobs that Primo had cooked for tonight’s dinner.”

“Don’t-”

Samot stepped back, out of Samothes’ space, convinced that he had gone too far. That Samothes was really an in-bed-with-the-lights-out kind of guy. (The best of them always are.) As he went to take a second step, Samothes grabbed him by the front of his robes, pulling Samot against him again, pushing himself back against the wooden door.

“Don’t bring up Primo if you’re trying to get me in the mood,” said Samothes, his tone teasing, tilting down to kiss Samot.

His eager hands moved to remove Samot’s clothing as well. 

“Samothes,” Samot called, quietly. 

Samothes stilled, certain that he had disobeyed somehow. That it would end. That Samot would make good on his promise to be very intense with his dessert spoon, making a meal into an evening of tortuous squirming for him. 

“Samothes.” Samot repeated, his voice softer as he joined their hands together. 

They made eye contact, Samothes’ eye softening (Like a gentle sunset, Samot thought, and then, Oh boy do I have it bad.) before Samot moved both of their hands against the doorframe. 

“These are to stay here, or else I stop. Understand?” 

Samothes nodded, quickly, too afraid that his voice would betray him by just ceasing to exist.

Samot smiled, all sharp white teeth. Samothes gulped as Samot delicately moved a white towel onto the floor in front of Samothes. Samot tapped his fingers delicately on Samothes’s belt loops for a moment before untying it. He lowered himself to kneel on the towel, using the momentum of his movement to pull Samothes’s pants down with him. Samothes shivered, more from being exposed to Samot’s gaze than any recognition of the room’s temperature. He bit his lip, trying to stay silent.

Samot placed both of his hands on Samothes’ upper thighs, rubbing them up and down for a moment. Samothes huffed a laugh. Samot looked up again, his eyes crinkling as he, too, laughed quietly. 

“This is ridiculous,” Samothes said.

“You’re ridiculous,” Samot said, giving another quiet laugh, pressing a soft kiss to Samothes’s thigh.

I am in love with you, Samothes thought, his heart beating in the rhythm of the words.

Samot laughed again, as though he could read Samothes’ thoughts. Not meanly, mind you. It’s the laugh you do when you, too, are so unbearably in love with someone and that it’s nice to hear a call and response to your feelings: relief in the form of laughter, like the first warm day after a cold winter.

“Okay, Samothes. You need to be quiet, okay? Will you be quiet for me?” 

We’re in the middle of a volcano, thought Samothes, who could hear us?

But Samot was looking up at him so earnestly, so Samothes nodded, biting his lip again as Samot’s hands traced their way along the insides of his thighs.

Samot began achingly slowly, sliding his hand up and down the shaft, pressing small kisses up Samothes’ right thigh. 

Samot continued to kiss Samothes, down his left leg, kissing from his own wrist to where his hand was continuing to stroke Samothes to full hardness. Samot kissed the tip, and then did a few experimental licks down the entire length. Samothes trembled a little bit at the contact, but stayed quiet.

“Good, that’s good,” Samot murmured. “You’re doing very well, Samothes.”

Samot began to swallow Samothes slowly, inch by inch. Every few inches, he would let it slide out of his mouth with a quick pop, and kiss Samothes’ thigh again, and murmur another “That’s it,” or perhaps, “You’re so beautiful like this.”

Samothes continued to follow orders and not make a sound, and his hands stayed where they were on the wall. Samot looked up at Samothes through his lashes after he had achieved the divine feat of swallowing Samothes whole, to see that Samothes was beginning to look in pain, a small amount of quickly healing scratches in his palms. 

Samot slowly let Samothes slide out of his mouth, a small string of spit connecting the two for another second. Samothes groaned at the sight.

“Hey, hey,” Samot said, and began to stand up. 

Samothes froze.

“No, no, hey, shh, you’re doing amazing.” Samot kissed Samothes on the nose and then the right cheek, feeling Samothes’s muscles relax underneath him, before slowly moving his arms to where Samothes’ were still pinned against the door.

“Samothes, you don’t-. You shouldn’t hurt yourself just to follow my orders,” Samot said.

He kissed the already faint marks that had already become non-existent as he looked back up at Samothes.

Samothes looked at where Samot had kissed his arm, before looking at him. “I want to follow your orders, though. Whatever it takes.”

Samot nodded, kindly, “And I like when you follow my orders, but I don’t like it when you’re hurt.”

Samot put a hand to Samothes’s cheek, leaning up to kiss him softly.

When he leant back, Samothes nodded again, seriously, as though trying to understand how something could be made sleeker, go faster.

“But..? You and I? You hurt me, sometimes?”

Samot kissed him again, being sure to bite Samothes’s lower lip in a way that Samot knew always made him groan. He did, and the assurance of his theory made Samot groan in return.

“Is it a bad hurt?” Samot asked, leaning back so that just their hands touching, allowing Samothes to keep his wits about him. 

Samot guided both of their hands to his face, kissing both of his palms softly, before slowly moving his hands off from a top Samothes’.

“No, no,” Samothes agreed, and Samot kissed where the scratches had been moments ago again, the memory of them standing out stark in Samot’s memory even though there was no trace of them left on Samothes’s skin.

“This was a bad hurt for me, Samothes. If either of us are hurt in a way that we don’t like, or that the other one doesn’t like, we should tell each other.”

Samothes closed his eyes, and bent down so that the their foreheads were touching. Samot wrapped his arms around Samothes’ waist, and they breathed like that for a moment.

Samothes removed his hands from Samot’s cheeks, going to tie his robe back together, sure that the moment was over, already half-forming excuses as to their lateness to dinner in his mind. Distracted, Samothes could not see the smirk that Samot had as Samot took both of Samothes’ hands in his own and moved them back up to the door behind him.

“Now, now. I said I’d praise you. What kind of follower would I be to leave in the middle of communion?”

Samothes rolled his eyes and began to huff a response back but Samot had already resumed his kneeling position. Samothes inhaled sharply. Samot did not give him the same slow build up as he had before, drawing Samothes into his mouth and sucking him back into hardness.

Samothes whined, hips arching towards Samot even his hands stayed pinned to the door where Samot had placed them. His fingers scraped at the wood as he bit his lip, trying to keep himself from fucking up sharply into Samot’s mouth.

Samot pulled off, achingly slowly, licking a long stripe on the underside of Samothes’s cock. Samothes shuddered, his lips moving in silent words. Samot thought it could have been please, or love, or Samot, or perhaps a combination of all three. He smiled, sharp and dangerous, kissing the tip of Samothes before swallowing him down again in a smooth motion.

Samothes gave a wordless shout, his head hitting the door with a thud. Samot pulled off him again, and Samothes whined, his eyes screwed shut.

“Samothes,” said Samot, his voice at once gentle as the waves and as firm as steel, “look at me.”

Samothes took a shuddering breath, looking down at Samot slowly. His hands flexed but stayed against the door.

Samot smiled. “Good. A worshiper does like to know their god looks upon their acts.”

Samothes huffed a laugh. There were many things that he could have said to that, not the least of which that Samothes was as much a follower or Samot as Samot was a follower of him. All thoughts were driven from his mind as Samot lowered his head again, looking up at him through his lashes as he took Samothes into his mouth once more.

Samot ran his hands up and down the insides of Samothes’s thighs, lightly trailing his nails over the sensitive skin. Samothes groaned, his voice growing louder as Samot’s tongue ran along his length as he sucked. Samot flicked his tongue over the head of Samothes’s cock, digging his nails in deeper as he did so. The sharp lines of pain tipped Samothes over the edge. Samot swallowed him down before slipping off, pressing a soft kiss to the already-healing scratches that he’d made.

Samothes slid to the ground, his legs trembling. Samot curled himself against Samothes’s chest, pressing light kisses to his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, the inside of his wrists. Samot cupped his cheek, tilting Samothes’s head so that their eyes met. Samothes kissed Samot’s palm, nuzzling it.

Samot smiled. He kissed Samothes’s forehead. Samothes sighed, wrapping his arms around Samot’s waist. He buried his face in the crook of Samot’s neck. Samot carded a hand through Samothes’s hair.

“High Sun Day is a holy day,” murmured Samot, “It is a day to give thanks to you, my love, who forged the sun in the sky, bringing heat and life into Hieron, for giving the being who live here the tools to forge their own lives. It is a day to reflect on the blessings you have given all peoples. A day to reflect on how much I love you.”

Samothes’s breath stuttered. He raised his head to be level with Samot’s leaning in to kiss him, the heat of it slow and lazy.

“I hope you feel that I have been… appropriately worshipful,” continued Samot, leaning back just far enough to speak, his lips breathing against Samothes’s.

Samothes swallowed. “You have been a model follower as always, my love.”

Samot smiled, leaning in to kiss him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this, the year of the switch,

At some point -- ten? A hundred years? They’ve remade the world countless times, what do years matter -- in the future, Samothes comes home from a very grueling meeting with the exarchs of his homeland. And Samot, oh Samot, is unaware that Samothes is home at all. 

Samot is unaware of anything at all, loud moans coming from their bedroom leads Samothes to his husband, laid upon their unmade bed, a beautiful sight. Samot has his head tilted back, the line of his pale throat as taught as the muscles of his right forearm, quickly moving his hand up and down his own cock.

Samothes has always been a jealous god, hoarding knowledge and new inventions in his volcano until He decides it is time for the people to have it. Unfortunately, this also relates to his Samot - who was once Nothing, barely a shadow. Being married to Samothes is wonderful, he assumes, but Samot likes to dance in the Dark, sometimes. 

Samothes leans on the doorway, watching him for a moment. He doesn’t think Samot would mind, and it’s not as though Samot is aware of anything other than his own movements right now. After all this time there is still novelty to be found in having a tangible physical form, and Samothes knows how he likes to focus in on the sensations, letting himself be pulled away from his own mind for a while.

Samot moans Samothes’s name, his voice rough, as though the word is being raked across hot coals. His eyes are still tightly closed, screwed up as his hands twist in the sheets. Samothes wonders what the Samothes in Samot’s mind is doing to him right now. But as has always been the case for Samot’s thoughts, the only way to find out such things is to ask.

“Having a good time in my absence I see,” says Samothes.

Samot’s eyes snap open, his hand stilling it’s rapid motion, fluttering to his side. He remains hard though, red and aching, and Samothes drinks in the sight, unobscured by Samot’s hand.

“I didn’t realise you were home,” says Samot.

His voice is out of his usual smooth tone, breath ragged and voice a little raw. Samothes allows himself a small smile as he steps forward.

“I’m not surprised,” says Samothes, “you seemed quite preoccupied.”

“Well,” says Samot, leaning up on his elbows to look up at Samothes, “I have to find something to keep myself occupied while you’re away.”

“Well don’t stop on my account,” says Samothes. 

He leans both hands on the polished metal bed frame. Samot pushes himself up at little further, his body tilting towards Samothes.

“You could come a little closer you know,” says Samot, “and help amuse me.”

“I have traveled far today,” says Samothes. “I think it is I who deserve the amusements.”

Samot pats the bed beside him and Samothes laughs.

“Perhaps in a moment,” says Samothes, “if you perform well enough for me first.”

Samot inhales sharply, his fingers flexing in the sheets. The moment stretches out between them, Samothes’ gaze burning into him. There is nothing, no other being nor anything Samot’s mind can conjure in his imaginings that compares. His whole body feels tense with want, with need. He longs to look at Samothes in full, let his gaze roam over the body that he has missed so dearly over the past week, and yet he cannot bring himself to look away from Samothes’s face.

And then Samothes leans back, stepping back to recline in the chair across from the bed. His gaze is no less bright from that short distance away. Samot itches to push himself up off the sheets and crawl into his lap. Samothes gives him a small smile.

“Stay there,” says Samothes. He waves a hand. “Continue.”

Samot’s hands flex in the bed sheets for a moment, as though he is considering rebellion. Samothes raises his eyebrows at Samot, and waits. He has patience enough to spare, for this.

Slowly, Samot raises a delicate hand and wraps it around himself, eyes fluttering at his own gentle touch. Samothes allows him a few strokes before he speaks again.

“What is it you think of, when I am away?”

“You,” groans Samot. “You, my king, my husband, my heart.”

Samothes blinks at him, pleased and slow. “Is that so?”

Samot nods, his hand moving faster, hips thrusting upwards as he brushes his thumb across the tip.

“It is well that you should do so,” says Samothes.

His voice is quiet, but it rumbles in the air around Samot, making him writhe, his free hand clutching at the sheets.

“I gave you life. Everything you do is because of me. Every book you read, every glass of wine, every time you touch yourself while I’m away. That only happens because I say so. And why is that, Samot?”

“Because I am yours,” said Samot, trying to keep his voice from wavering, a hopeless task in such a moment. “I have always been yours.”

“That’s right, Samot. I am a merciful god, but I am a jealous God. All of the gospels say it to be true.”

Samot nodded, continuing to stroke himself while Samothes sat in the chair across the room. Samothes relaxed backwards, giving Samot a slow smile, a bright sun peaking through rain clouds. Samot could see a bulge at the front of Samothes’ robe, the only sign that anything he was doing was affecting Samothes. His mouth fell open slightly, and he licked his lips, breath coming faster.

“And what about to you, Boy-King? Am I merciful?”

Samot nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. He continued his movements, desperately now, his hips bucking up.

“Oh, Boy-King. I’m going to have to hear you say it. I gave you a voice, did I not? I want you to use it for me, as everything of yours is to be for my pleasure. Is that not right, Samot?”

Samot nodded again, taking his hand off himself to clutch at the bedsheets even as his hips still canted upwards, too unsure about his inability to continue without coming. His breathing sounded loud to his own ears, ragged pants tearing from his chest.

Samothes laughed, delighted at the evidence that Samot could get just as worked up when Samothes took control once in awhile. He walked slowly to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the wine-colored sheets and slowly running his hand in circles on Samot’s knee.

Samot grabbed for his hand, and laced their fingers together, squeezing. His nails bit into the back of Samothes’s hand.

“Samothes, please,” Samot gasped, weakly tugging the man’s hand towards him. 

Samothes nodded, smiling down at Samot as he threw a leg over to straddle him. He linked his right hand with Samot’s left. Being careful not to touch any part of his body, Samothes leaned down and kissed Samot tenderly, running his tongue over Samot’s lips, being sure to pull back as soon as Samot surged forward to deepen the kiss.

“No, no, Samot,” Samothes said, as he began kissing a line down Samot’s neck. “I get to decide how far the kiss goes. I get to decide where and when you get to touch me. I will tell you when you may come, if at all.”

Samot nodded, a faint whimper making way from his closed lips. His pale skin flushed a deep pink where Samothes was kissing across his chest. He squirmed, seeking contact and finding none. Above him, Samothes chuckled, a rich, deep sound, a sound that made Samot tremble with want.

“I think, before I release you upon the world,” said Samothes, his hands ghosting over Samot’s skin, “you need a reminder of who you belong to. Would you like a reminder, Samot?”

Samot nodded, swallowing hard as he looked up at Samothes. Samothes’ eyes were dark as he followed the movement of Samot’s throat.

“As you seem to be having trouble keeping your hands to yourself-” said Samothes.

His hands intertwined with Samot’s stretching them out so that his palms lay face down on the bed. Samothes let go of Samot’s hands, laying his own hands over the top of Samot’s and pressing down on them lightly before he moved back. Samot flexed his fingers, gathering the silken fabric of the sheets into fists. He suspected he would need something to hold onto.

“Good boy,” said Samothes, smiling down at him.

Samot flushed. “Please. Please let me me show you-”

Samothes put a hand over Samot’s mouth and Samot immediately fell silent. 

“I know you have much you’d like to show me,” said Samothes, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “But it is for me to decide whether I allow you to show me.”

Samot nuzzled at Samothes’s hand to show he understood, not quite trusting his voice. Samothes allowed him to for a few moments, running his finger across Samot’s lips. Samot’s hands gripped the bedsheets a little tighter at the light touch. His mouth slipped open and he licked at Samothes’s fingers, lifting his head to suck at them.

Samothes hummed. “How many times did you think of me while I was away, abandoning your work in favour of pleasuring yourself? Every day? Every hour? Have you remained in this bed since I left, thinking of me?”

Samothes removed his fingers and replaced them with his lips, pressing Samot’s head down on the bed with the force of his kiss.

“What would you like, my husband?” Samothes asks, always kind and thoughtful and thinking of others. Samot must say this out loud, because Samothes laughs, before sticking his fingers back in Samot’s mouth. 

“Now, now husband. I left you for a week, I feel as though you get to decide how I make it up to you.”

Samot rolls his eyes, a look that would mean more if he wasn’t still stuffed full of Samothes’ fingers. Samothes chuckles, like molasses. He removes his fingers again, trailing them up Samot’s thigh, close to where Samot is still red and wanting. Samot gasps.

“You, you beautiful idiot. I’d like you.”

“You’d like me?” Samothes said, before slapping Samot’s inner thigh. The pressure being good, great even, but not quite where Samot wants the pressure of his husband’s hand.

“I’d love you, I love you. I need you. Need you inside of me, need you to surround me and remind me that I’m here and real and that you’re here and real. That neither of us are going to be apart for a long, long time.”

Samothes smiles, and tugs sharply once on Samot’s dick, sending him over the edge. Samot cries and gasps Samothes’ name a few times, and when he comes to, Samothes is kneeling over him, a small vial of oil in his hand, two fingers already inside of Samot. 

“Oh, my beautiful husband. Are you back with me? You’ve been so good for me so far. You’re always so willing, so grateful, so eager for me.” Samothes adds a third finger and Samot is nodded, tears slowly rolling down his face.

“Only for you, my love,” he agrees, and Samothes groans and pulls the three fingers out altogether.

Samothes adds a bit more oil to his dick, and Samot’s mouth waters. Samothes notices Samot licking his lips before moving his knees up to line them up.

“Your wedding vows did make the whole church blush,” Samothes says and Samot laughs. 

“I was only paying attention to your reaction,” Samot remarks back, as Samothes sinks in to the hilt in one try. Samothes groans, and Samot feels it where they’re joined. 

“That’s how I remember it too,” Samot says, and Samothes meets Samot’s eyes, and kisses him, a furious movement of teeth. 

“I love you, Samothes,” Samot says, feeling his dick swell again for the second time that night. Samothes moves in and out of Samot in a practiced motion, time making them experts in each other’s bodies. 

“Oh, my husband,” Samothes says moving forward to kiss him on the lips, under his chin, his forehead. “Oh my husband, I have missed you while you were away. I did not touch myself once, knowing that I would be home and with you at the end of the week. I am sure that the exarchs could tell how testy I was towards the end, but how could I not be? They were keeping me from you.”

Samot groans again, the movement of Samothes on top of him, his perfectly toned abs rubbing against his prick again and again, quicker now as Samothes chases his own finish. 

“I thought only of you, my husband; your beautiful blonde hair and your thin fingers on my skin and the way you add too much cream into your coffee. You you you you, Samot.”

“Samothes, please,” Samot cries, so so close now. 

A rough thrust forward and Samothes whispers, “I love you, My Samot, my husband, my whole world. I love you, Samot,” into Samot’s ears and Samot is gone. He shoots between their two divine bodies and sinks his teeth into Samothes’ collarbone, desperate for something physical to stay. For Samothes to have to keep his robe closed in the mountain tomorrow. 

Samothes gasps, and stills, and Samot feels full. He feels all of Samothes all around him and inside of him, and Gods, he wishes it could be this way forever. He prays that nothing comes between the two of them. That Severia keeps Maelgwyn for the weekend. 

Samothes slowly pulls out, and suddenly there is a bowl of hot water next to the bed with a washcloth in it. Samothes wipes them both down, slowly, tracing I love yous and Love of my life into Samot’s skin. 

Samot lays there, still breathing like he had just learned that he needed to in order to survive, again. Samothes chuckled as he walked from their bedroom to the kitchen, grabbing a few glasses of water and a bowl of grapes from a new invention of his. 

(“It keeps things cold! Without needing to be in cold temperatures! Because it makes the inside cold itself!” he had explained to his father and to Samot.

“So you made it snow in a small box?” Maelgwyn asked, confused as to where technology and magic diverged. 

Samot and Samol laughed, and Samothes nodded, “Pretty much.”)

Samothes came back into their room, closing the door behind him and lighting a few candles with a wave of his hand as the sun had begun to set for the day. It needed its rest; Samothes needed mood lighting. Samothes raised Samot’s head a bit, and tilted the water into his mouth.

“Drink, my King,” he whispered into Samot’s ear. 

Samot nodded, still too tired to even try and laugh. Samothes then moved Samot’s pliant body into a semi-sitting position, his back against Samothes’ now bare chest. Samothes began to pick grapes off of their vine, and moved his hand slowly from around Samot’s waist to his lips, pressing the grape there until Samot was aware enough to open them to eat Samothes’ offering. 

He nodded for Samothes to continue, and soon all that was left in the bowl was the vine, dried out and inedible. Samothes kissed Samot’s neck, and Samot turned around slightly for them to kiss truly. Samot and Samothes both smiled into the kiss.

“Welcome home, love. Can you always greet me by hand feeding me fruits?” Samot said while slowly running his hands up and down Samothes’ shin.

Samothes shook his head, “My Boy-King, so spoiled.”

Samot laughed, and nuzzled into Samothes’ chest, “I’m glad you’re back, husband.”

Samothes nodded, and kissed Samot’s hair, “As am I, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi: madelinestarr // mariusperkins

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: madelinestarr // mariusperkins


End file.
